The King's Lament
by EmrysTheMerlin
Summary: It was as if the world cracked. Arthur didn't feel anything but numb. Horrible numbness that shut the world away from himself forcing him to zero in on the corpse in front of him. Companion to The Sorcerer's Lament. Arthur's POV. Two shot. Violence warning!
1. Seconds Count

The Kings Lament

**Authors note: You guys are so patient! So I wrote you a two shot. All those who are waiting for an update on The Princes Players will, unfortunately, have to wait a bit longer. College is getting in my way. That plus work equals owwy brain… But I will NOT be going on hiatus! NEVER! THAT'S BAD! Enjoy. I own nothing.**

1. Seconds Count

King Arthur Pendragon had seen a lot in his time. He had seen betrayal, death, famine, war, loss and the joy that could follow when the hardships were over. He thought he had looked into the face of despair and loss. He thought he knew fear and anger and pain.

Then he saw the broken figure dragged in chains into the dark dismal castle room. His eyes raked followed the chain that wrapped around the slim throat, bruising sensitive skin, down to the shoulders, the left of which was clearly dislocated and painful. Raven hair faced Arthur as the tall proud man was forced to his knees. He wore no shirt and the wounds stood out in sharp contrast to the scars that already littered the porcelain skin.

Knife shaped burns worked their way up his sides, both shoulders were red and irritated the left freshly so. His back was bloody and clearly infected. Bruises littered what little of his ghostly pale face Arthur could see. The man they had searched for endlessly for three weeks knelt broken and chained in front of them. Arthur was frozen in place, rage building behind his shock.

So deep in shock was he that he was unable to react as the man, the monster who had stolen his friend tugged on the chain again.

"The price for this one is a little higher than we discussed. He's quite powerful but a bit damaged, so I'll give you a small discount." Arthur's attention snapped up to the sneering face of the black market slave trader. The man must have been exceedingly dim for he didn't notice any of the anger radiating off the four men in front of him. The sneer widened.

"Be polite to your new masters Little Bird." As all four champions of Camelot stood frozen in shock and rage he tugged on the chain again and wrapped it once more around their friend's neck and tugged. The smaller man choked and gasped, scrabbling at his neck with his right hand. This yanked up his left and he whined in pain like an abused dog.

Gwaine lunged first, a snarl of rage tearing through his lips. Lancelot followed seconds later, bloodlust gleaming in the ever honorable knight's eyes. Even Kay leapt into what Arthur could not call a fray, so much as a slaughter. But even that was too good for the beast that called itself Clayton.

Arthur raced forward just managing to catch his friend as he fell. His eyes were closed and the chain was wound tight around his neck. Arthur fumbled in his haste to unwind the offending object.

"Merlin? Merlin!? Wake up!" He shook his friend as gently as he could. Nothing. The young warlock's form was limp as a rag doll. And he was cold, so cold. No one should be that cold.

Merlin's captor screamed, high and shrill. Arthur didn't need to look up as the man gurgled off to know that he was dead. Lancelot, their second best medic, dropped to his kneed beside Arthur.

"We need to reset his shoulder before the damage becomes permanent." Arthur nodded dully, mind refusing to process. Lancelot leaned Merlin up against Arthur who continued to cling to his still form, far too still.

"Ready? One. Two. Three!" Lancelot expertly replaced Merlin's shoulder in its proper place with a dull crack. Merlin didn't even flinch. His face remained blank, eyes closed, breath… There was none. Arthur lay Merlin gently down and leaned an ear toward his mouth, listening.

Nothing. It was as if the world cracked. Arthur didn't feel anything but numb. Horrible numbness that shut the world away from himself forcing his attention to zero in on the corpse, no other word crept into his frozen mind, in front of him.

"We were too late, seconds too late." He didn't realize he had spoken aloud until reality crashed around him in the form of Gwaine's shout.

"What do you mean too late!? He can't be! We got here! He was alive!" Arthur shook his head, standing and stepping away from the lifeless body before him. His senses began to search for anything he could find to distract himself, as something inside him broke down screaming.


	2. Breathe

**Authors Note: Lol, I suck for leaving off there… I know. Anyway here's part two. I may extend this further if you all ask me to but it take time. Probably a lot of time… Anyway part two. For the full story of what happens before and after this, to Merlin, read The Sorcerers Lament. I own nothing!**

2. Breathe

Then he heard the dull sounds of tearful cries from the hallway Clayton had dragged Merlin through.

"Did you hear that?" Gwaine kept yelling but everyone else paused to listen. He defiantly heard it that time. He turned and looked at the body of Clayton, the man who death was too good for. One of his knights had put a sword through his chest. He looked terrified and Arthur felt a wave of slightly sadistic joy. Then the numbness returned as he fumbled for the keys.

"Lancelot, do what you can for him. Gwaine, Kay you're with me." He led his knights through the doors and began unlocking cells and unchaining prisoners. They were at this for about ten minutes when Arthur heard someone calling above the noise of the freed slaves.

"Arthur! Arthur, come quick!" Lancelot, desperately calling to him from the room they had left him in with Merlin. Arthur wasn't sure he could take any more bad news.

He ran, his heart beating in his throat, keys left in Kay's hands without a second thought. Gwaine ran behind him. He skidded into the room that still held Clayton's corpse. Merlin lay deathly pale and unmoving. But his neck appeared to be glowing dimly, a soft pale gold light encircling chain bruised skin. It was not the gold of his magic, his was the color of melted unblemished gold gleaming in the sunlight. This was the color of a misty sunrise. In fact there was mist, rising from nowhere swirling gently around the room. It avoided Clayton's body by about a foot on all sides and deepened around Merlin, almost forming a figure but never quite managing to fully coalesce.

Arthur raced forward into the mist. Unlike normal mist it was warm and welcoming. He knelt down and placed a hand on Merlin's right shoulder. The bruises on his neck were vanishing as the light began to fade and the mist started to dissipate. Then suddenly and without warning Merlin's finger twitched. No one noticed the glow vanishing completely, no one noticed the mist disappearing entirely.

All they noticed was the rise and fall of their friend's chest. He was alive. The world, so wrong a moment ago, righted itself and Arthur dimly heard Gwaine cheering as he ran off to tell Kay the news and help him free the rest of the prisoners. Merlin showed no signs of waking yet but Arthur could handle that.

His friend would not wake for several hours to come. He would be in pain and would complain non stop, there would be damage beyond the physical to deal with. Merlin was strong but Arthur knew that even he would be hurt beyond the burns and cuts by this. But beyond all the plans and comforts and strategies that began to take form in Arthur's mind, something inside him cheered and cried for joy.

His friend, his other half, was still alive. He could finally breathe again.


End file.
